"I'm sorry."

Hades opened his hand, and a rough scarlet crack crept over his breastplate, emitting an uneasy red glow from the inside out, like the last crack in the ceramic.

"Failed,"

Hades said, the voice like the whisper of a ghost in the middle of the night, or the hoarse cry across the distant shoreline.

Motarian felt nothing but cold, and then the choking sensation that strangled him, the nightmare that forever hung over his soul, the pain that could never breathe.

Hades stared at him, expressionless.

He was no longer the commander Motarian was familiar with, he was more of his original appearance, two eyes staring at Motarion, and in a trance, Motarian remembered seeing them in the fog of Barbarus, through the greasy isolation eyepieces.

But he is no longer the same person he used to be, he has walked countless roads, flowed through countless rivers, the bumpy road only he knows the hardships and dangers, the turbulent rivers only he knows the depths,

"I was derelict in my duty,"

Hades' voice seemed to come from the deepest part of the sea,

"Billions of beings will be destroyed, demigods will fall into darkness, I can't stop this, I've counted everything, I haven't counted them to change their purpose."

"Death, I'm not done with the road I'm going to go."

Motarian let out a death-like howl in his lungs, and he coughed as he wished to speak, but no breath of air in his lungs and throat stopped him from speaking,

He wanted to say, Hades, fuck the shit, that damn emperor didn't have you to fight hard.

He wanted to say that if someone had ever succeeded in giving subspace a slap in the face, then that person could only be you, Hades, and it could only be you!

He wanted to say that he had finished the road he was going to walk, and that he, Motarian, would finish the rest of the way, even if he died!

Hades, tell him who did it, tell him what your long-cherished wish is, tell him what you didn't have time to do, tell him! Tell him!!

Let him slap the fucking subspace!

Motarian struggled frantically, his most familiar suffocation pinching in his throat, and he struggled desperately with the pain, but the invisible enemy gave him no chance to resist.

Hades!

Motarian shouted, scratching at any opportunity, Hades, Hades! Respond to him, respond to him!!

The cold, dead waters of the River Styx slowly swelled up, the flowing water brushed through the armor of the Lord of Death, poured into the void along the gaps in the armor, and the air bubbled upward, passing past Motarian's eyes, floating unrestrained towards the distant water.

He sank into the river Styx......

- Hades, answer him! Respond to Motarian!

In the silence and darkness, scarlet shimmered.

"Motarian,"

"Be careful, fate is starting to go back."

Mortarian snapped his eyes open, and the Lord of Death gasped for breath, he pulled off his gas mask directly, the fresh air from Makurag stung his airways, and he almost collapsed, the last words of the dream ringing in his ears.

He looked up, the blinding light almost bringing tears to his eyes, and he turned his head to see Angron, leaning over his desk, clutching one of his shoulders.

Angelon was frowning, looking at him with great concern.

Motarian let out a pre-dying gasp from a tuberculosis patient,

[It's okay,]

Motarian said, taking a deep breath, his breathing calming out again, the morning glimmer shining on him, and the dust flying,

[Just a nightmare.] 】

Nightmare," Angron said, slowly letting go of the hand that was holding Motarian,

Are you sure it was a dream? 】

[Yes.] 】

Motarian said, putting back on his gas mask as he caught a glimpse of Killiman, a stunned Gilliman on the other side, quill in his hand trembling.

[When will Machado arrive?] 】

Motarian asked abruptly. Killiman shook his head slowly,

[It may take some time.] 】

…… Motarian remembered those words, Motarian knew his fate, so ...... What will be the fate of Killiman, or rather, Macullag?

Fate, which had already been stirred up, began to mix together and be configured into an even more violent poisonous juice.

——————

"It's finally ......"

Apothecary Raton breathed heavily, spores erupting from his respirator, and Nurgle frolicking at his feet, he bent down and touched the heads of those Nurgle.

"Father, I wish success in bringing the lost rebel son back on the right path."

He gasped as he spoke, and the Space Marines beside him turned away from him in disgust, even though they were far enough away to make a nice little spray of spores flying in the air,

"Okay,"

Raton said,

"The seven blessed ones are already in place, and thanks to Gilliman's kindness, Otlama is now easy to enter."

The blue-armored Space Marine chuckled, Raton couldn't tell them apart, but he just needed to know that they had a deal with him,

It's weird...... Raton thought that they seemed to think they were doing the right thing, and did they know what the real right was?

"The Lord of Maculag is too arrogant, his empire is riddled with holes in our eyes, the infiltration is complete, he has already lost."

Ratton nodded, and he suddenly remembered a question,

"Are you a group?"

His voice disappeared into the wind, and no one answered.

Raton sighed, feeling the growth of the scars in his sick body, knowing that the few people he worked with were not competent,

At least, he still hasn't been able to distinguish how many of them there are, how many are there?

————————

Severn curled himself up in the crowd, Helion's slum cabin crowded and dim, the only light hanging from the ceiling, flickering white.

Coming from an agrarian world, he was supposed to take a boat to join his cousin in the Hive World, but the torch went out as the ship sailed.

Severn had no time to describe what had happened at that moment, as the ship jolted violently, and then plunged into the endless night, and for the first time he knew that the Geller force field outside the ship would make a sound similar to that of glass shattering.

Then there was chaos, the people in the lower cabins were crying loudly, huddled together and shoved, someone was shouting something, but it was not low Gothic, and Severn didn't understand it very well.

Time seems to have passed for a long time, and it seems like only a moment has passed, after all, time anchoring in subspace is also achieved by the star torch.

Severn was finally woken up by the shouts of a crew member who woke up from the sweaty crowd and was told that the ship had found its way and that the great Lord of Maculag had saved them!

Then there was a long bump, with a feeling of poor hunger, and he shoved with the crowd into the Helien track over Maculag, huddled in the immigration hall of Helien with hundreds of thousands of refugees, waiting for the moment to be released.

Severn felt an itch under the curls on the back of his head, and he scratched his hand impatiently, and when he lifted his hand, he saw traces of blood embedded in the dirty nails.

Severn cursed in a low voice, he came from an agricultural world, of course he knew what was going on, this body lacked the necessary vitamins, it had warned him.

He put his hand behind his head again, and under the messy hair, he vaguely felt three lumps growing together.

They look like living creatures.

Toot toot

(End of chapter)